The administrative office was quieter than I expected. Sparse, efficient—everything had a place and a purpose. The kind of order that came from people who spent more time in the wilderness than behind desks. I could respect that.
Stone dust still clung to my clothes from the morning's work in the collapsed tunnels. I'd brushed most of it off before entering, but traces remained in the creases of my sleeves and the fine lines of my boots. The smell of earth followed me like a ghost.
A woman sat behind the desk, older, weathered in the way that only extended exposure to Wind Country's elements could achieve. Her skin was bronzed and lined, her hands calloused, her dark hair streaked with gray and pulled into a severe braid. She looked up as I approached, sharp brown eyes assessing me with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd sized up countless would-be Rangers.
"I want to join the Rangers."
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. I stopped in front of the desk, arms crossed loosely over my chest. No point dancing around it.
The woman—her nameplate read Sareko—leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking softly. She didn't speak immediately, just studied me with that unnerving stillness people developed when they were comfortable with silence. When she finally did speak, her voice was dry, almost amused.
"That so?"
"That's so."
Sareko's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "You know what Rangers do?"
"Track. Hunt. Survive. Navigated the Diamond Maelstrom without getting torn apart. Operate outside the village without a leash."
My tone was flat, factual. I'd done my research, hell I was stuck inside of an Oracle for decades. The Rangers were the only Order that made sense for someone like me—someone who needed freedom of movement, who couldn't afford to be tied down by bureaucratic red tape.
Sareko nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with my answer. She stood, moving to a filing cabinet against the wall and pulling out a weathered scroll. When she returned to the desk, she unrolled it, revealing a detailed illustration of various creatures from the Wind Country Bestiary.
"Standard initiation trial. You want in, you prove you can survive what's out there."
She tapped a gnarled finger against one of the entries—a creature with golden-bronze scales and three serpentine heads.
"Kyrinchor. Three of them. C-rank threat, aggressive as hell, found in the deeper parts of the Desert Expanse. You track one down, you kill it, you bring back proof. Do that, and we'll talk about your membership."
I leaned forward, studying the illustration. Three-headed. Reptilian. Canine body structure. Aggressive even when unprovoked. Known to eat its own young.
"Proof being?"
"Head. All three of them, preferably. If that's too much trouble, the scales and claws will do—but they're distinctive enough that we'll know if you're trying to pass off something else."
Sareko rolled the scroll back up and set it aside, fixing me with that assessing stare again.
"This isn't a test of strength. It's a test of survival. Tracking. Preparation. Knowing when to fight and when to wait. If you come back alive with the proof, you're in. If you don't come back..."
She shrugged.
"Well, then you weren't Ranger material anyway."
I straightened, my jaw set. My fingers flexed once at my sides—old habit, checking for weapons that weren't there. I'd need to gear up before heading out. Water. Rations. Medical supplies. Maybe see if I could borrow some tracking equipment.
"How long do I have?"
"Long as you need. But the Expanse doesn't care about deadlines. Neither do the Kyrinchor."
Sareko pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled something on it before sliding it across the desk.
"That's your authorization. Shows you're on official Ranger business if anyone asks questions. Don't lose it."
I took the parchment, folding it carefully and tucking it into an inner pocket of my coat. My mind was already working through logistics—where Kyrinchor were most commonly sighted, what terrain they preferred, how best to approach a hunt against a creature with multiple heads and unpredictable aggression patterns.
"Anything else I should know?"
Sareko's expression shifted slightly—still neutral, but with an edge of something that might have been respect. Or warning.
"Yeah. Don't underestimate them because their classified as C-rank. Classifications are guidelines, not guarantees. And if you run into anything worse out there..."
She paused.
"Run."
I allowed myself a thin smile—sharp, predatory.
"I'll keep that in mind."
I turned to leave, my boots echoing softly against the floor as I made my way toward the exit. The administrative office felt smaller on the way out, the weight of the task ahead already settling into my shoulders.
Three heads. Desert Expanse. C-rank threat.
Fine.
I'd faced worse. Or at least, Shin had. And I'd been there for all of it, watching, learning, waiting for my chance to prove myself outside of someone else's shadow.
This was it.
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I stepped out into the dry heat of Sunagakure, already planning my next move.
Stone dust still clung to my clothes from the morning's work in the collapsed tunnels. I'd brushed most of it off before entering, but traces remained in the creases of my sleeves and the fine lines of my boots. The smell of earth followed me like a ghost.
A woman sat behind the desk, older, weathered in the way that only extended exposure to Wind Country's elements could achieve. Her skin was bronzed and lined, her hands calloused, her dark hair streaked with gray and pulled into a severe braid. She looked up as I approached, sharp brown eyes assessing me with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd sized up countless would-be Rangers.
"I want to join the Rangers."
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. I stopped in front of the desk, arms crossed loosely over my chest. No point dancing around it.
The woman—her nameplate read Sareko—leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking softly. She didn't speak immediately, just studied me with that unnerving stillness people developed when they were comfortable with silence. When she finally did speak, her voice was dry, almost amused.
"That so?"
"That's so."
Sareko's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "You know what Rangers do?"
"Track. Hunt. Survive. Navigated the Diamond Maelstrom without getting torn apart. Operate outside the village without a leash."
My tone was flat, factual. I'd done my research, hell I was stuck inside of an Oracle for decades. The Rangers were the only Order that made sense for someone like me—someone who needed freedom of movement, who couldn't afford to be tied down by bureaucratic red tape.
Sareko nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with my answer. She stood, moving to a filing cabinet against the wall and pulling out a weathered scroll. When she returned to the desk, she unrolled it, revealing a detailed illustration of various creatures from the Wind Country Bestiary.
"Standard initiation trial. You want in, you prove you can survive what's out there."
She tapped a gnarled finger against one of the entries—a creature with golden-bronze scales and three serpentine heads.
"Kyrinchor. Three of them. C-rank threat, aggressive as hell, found in the deeper parts of the Desert Expanse. You track one down, you kill it, you bring back proof. Do that, and we'll talk about your membership."
I leaned forward, studying the illustration. Three-headed. Reptilian. Canine body structure. Aggressive even when unprovoked. Known to eat its own young.
"Proof being?"
"Head. All three of them, preferably. If that's too much trouble, the scales and claws will do—but they're distinctive enough that we'll know if you're trying to pass off something else."
Sareko rolled the scroll back up and set it aside, fixing me with that assessing stare again.
"This isn't a test of strength. It's a test of survival. Tracking. Preparation. Knowing when to fight and when to wait. If you come back alive with the proof, you're in. If you don't come back..."
She shrugged.
"Well, then you weren't Ranger material anyway."
I straightened, my jaw set. My fingers flexed once at my sides—old habit, checking for weapons that weren't there. I'd need to gear up before heading out. Water. Rations. Medical supplies. Maybe see if I could borrow some tracking equipment.
"How long do I have?"
"Long as you need. But the Expanse doesn't care about deadlines. Neither do the Kyrinchor."
Sareko pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled something on it before sliding it across the desk.
"That's your authorization. Shows you're on official Ranger business if anyone asks questions. Don't lose it."
I took the parchment, folding it carefully and tucking it into an inner pocket of my coat. My mind was already working through logistics—where Kyrinchor were most commonly sighted, what terrain they preferred, how best to approach a hunt against a creature with multiple heads and unpredictable aggression patterns.
"Anything else I should know?"
Sareko's expression shifted slightly—still neutral, but with an edge of something that might have been respect. Or warning.
"Yeah. Don't underestimate them because their classified as C-rank. Classifications are guidelines, not guarantees. And if you run into anything worse out there..."
She paused.
"Run."
I allowed myself a thin smile—sharp, predatory.
"I'll keep that in mind."
I turned to leave, my boots echoing softly against the floor as I made my way toward the exit. The administrative office felt smaller on the way out, the weight of the task ahead already settling into my shoulders.
Three heads. Desert Expanse. C-rank threat.
Fine.
I'd faced worse. Or at least, Shin had. And I'd been there for all of it, watching, learning, waiting for my chance to prove myself outside of someone else's shadow.
This was it.
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I stepped out into the dry heat of Sunagakure, already planning my next move.